


you're the ground my feet won't reach

by scoutshonour



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Graduation, Mutual Pining, brief angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 08:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13498152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: "Speaking of friends, where are Stiles and Lydia?"Malia pales, and she stares at something moving in the grass - a beetle, maybe - eyes downcast, her head lowered, trying not to listen, but having no choice against it. Even when they're not here, she can't escape that dark pull of jealousy.Jealousy. Yeah. Because what else do you call it when your friend and ex-boyfriend/first love start dating?(or: the weeks in between Stiles' return and graduation, and how slowly but surely, Stiles and Malia found their way back to each other)





	you're the ground my feet won't reach

**Author's Note:**

> i'm going 2 be honest. i did not watch 6b, but i know vaguely what happens and tweaked some details to write out scenes (you'll see below if u read)
> 
> anYwhO this is mostly me venting and writing the ending we DESERVED gdi and like i haven't written for TW characters in over a year, so my apologies if my characterizations aren't as great as they could be.
> 
> title is from a song called "side of paradise" by the coyote theory & y'all...it's a good song, definitely recommend it

She sees him first.

His hair's tousled, all over the place - when is it  _ever_ in place - and disheveled, more so than usual. His breathing is ragged, and she can hear it, each rise and fall of his chest. It almost makes her want to  _run_ right into him, bury her head into his shoulders, and just. Breathe him in. 

Now that she remembers it all - Eichen, the highlighters, breaking into his room at night, Lydia's lake house basement - something in her chest aches terribly, for him.

But then Lydia must see him, through the narrow opening into the locker room, a slight gasp escaping her when she registers that it's him.

"I didn't say it back."

What-

"You didn't have to."

What's he talking abou-

She promptly marches to him,  and everything starts to make sense. It's like Malia isn't even fucking  _there,_ like the darkness swallowed her up, like she's in front of a screen, watching a movie play out in front of her.

And it must be, because Lydia sweeps Stiles - or Stiles sweeps Lydia - into this crushing, explosive kiss, the kiss that plays out during the movie's climax, where after a series of fuck-ups and miscommunication, the boy professes his love for the girl, the kiss right before they ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

They break apart, only to entangle themselves together into a hug, and something terrible twists her chest, stiffens every muscle in her body. Her body tells her to run, and that's exactly what she does, turning around and breaking into a sprint. She doesn't know where she's going, only that it needs to be anywhere but here.

She runs and runs and runs.

* * *

Everything goes back to normal, or at least the new normal, where everyone pretends they're alright or at least tries to be.

Just like no one had noticed the missing people, when they returned, they returned without any conflict or problems. It felt almost too convenient, but at this point, if everyone was safe and out of harm's way, did it really matter? 

It's the beginning of June, exams and graduation creeping up, and Malia has this itch to  _leave._

She's not going to school this fall. She talked to her father when November rolled around and applications were sent out, and he understood when she said she needed one year. One year to travel, to be somewhere new, to throw herself into the deep end and rise right back up to the top, before she'd begin a post-secondary education. 

Part of why she loved being a coyote was the freedom, and though she wouldn't give up being a human now, she still craved it. Being boundless. Limitless. To go wherever, whenever.

She didn't have much of a plan, but she'd figure it out. All she knew, was that she needed to leave Beacon Hills. It wasn't going to be hard to leave this place behind. But the people...

"Homeostasis is effected by the various -  _hey!_ " 

"Dude," Isaac says pointedly, an eyebrow arched. "It's lunch. Stop stressing over your biology exam - which, might I remind you, is  _three weeks away_ \- and finish your damn taco before I do."

Scott makes a face, grabbing the fry that Isaac had flung at him and throwing it back without much force. "Studying in advance is helpful. Especially considering how hard Miss Rubero is, and how the exam is going to be the actual - alright, now you're just wasting food."

"Boo!"

Malia doesn't flinch when Kira approaches her, shaking her head almost disdainfully. 

"Kira, you know I can smell you when you're like, fifteen feet away, right? So I already know you're on your way to the table?" Malia grins at Kira's disappointed look as she wedges herself in between Allison and Malia on the bench, plopping her tray onto the table.

"You're no fun." Kira says with a playful roll of her eyes, before greeting Allison with a brief peck to her cheek.

Allison snakes an arm around Kira's waist, the latter curling up on her shoulder, and God, Malia thinks, they're disgustingly adorable.

"Scott McCall, get those school notes away from my lunch, I'm trying to have a peaceful time with my friends," Kira scolds, ignoring Isaac's triumphant  _she agrees._

"Speaking of friends, where are Stiles and Lydia?"

Malia pales, and she stares at something moving in the grass - a beetle, maybe - eyes downcast, her head lowered, trying not to listen, but having no choice against it. Even when they're not here, she can't escape that dark pull of jealousy.

Jealousy. Yeah. Because what else do you call it when your friend and ex-boyfriend/first love start dating? 

"In a supply closet, probably," Isaac says. 

"So are they dating, or not? They're always so...subtle around each other, and Lydia hasn't given me any details yet, no matter how hard I beg, and she's never been this good of a liar, not with me. Scott?"

"Honestly, Al, I haven't really asked. But, you know, mainly 'cause I haven't seen him as much lately - he's been at Lydia's house a lot more often this past week or so."

She feels sick. Physically sick. Out of every human emotion possible, grief, pain, loneliness, guilt -  _heartache_? Heartache was the one giving her all this shit?

Everyone bursts into 'ooh's and 'ah's' and conspiratorial giggles, and Malia can't deal with it, refuses to.

"Um - I'm going to refill my water bottle." It comes out much more casually than it feels, and with that, she grabs her half-filled water bottle and bolts towards the entrance of the school's cafe.

She's not  _mad_ at them or anything. She's not going to go claw out their necks or scream at them or never speak to them again (although she hasn't really spoken to them that much since that night), because what's the fucking point, anyway? She loves them. They must be happy together, and she prioritizes their happiness over her own feelings of discomfort and unease.

It just hurts. Stings. Because her and Stiles, they ended so abruptly and weirdly strangely, like a last-minute ending randomly pieced together, and they never really spoke about it, at fucking  _all,_ and then he'd disappeared a few months later, and he'd come back, and-

you know what happened. She wants closure, something from him, but he doesn't owe her that. 

And fuck is closure anyway? Malia's starting to think it's something you see in movies, the ones Stiles would show her (the ones she'd inevitably fall asleep during because who can stay awake for two hours, staring at a screen?). Maybe, maybe she needs to get it over with, deal with the fact that it's really over, no more Stiles and Malia, just Stiles and Lydia, and that she's probably never going to talk to him ever again - 

"Malia!"

She must've been out of it not to notice Scott running after her, waving a hand in the air to catch her attention when she whips around in the middle of the cafeteria to see him.  

"Are you alright?"

His question sufficiently shocks her, and she splutters uselessly, her mouth hanging open. "What - why?" She suddenly snaps, feeling defensive. 

Scott gives her a sympathetic look, and he reaches forward, a hand soothingly on her shoulder. "Do you want to talk?"

Malia sighs. "You and that big old heart of yours, McCall. Am I really that obvious?" They fall into a comfortable pace towards the water fountain up on second floor (it's common knowledge that second floor has the coldest water), heading towards the secluded stairway.

"No, I just pay attention," Scott says with a gentle smile, "I didn't - I didn't know that you still..."

"First love and all. I heard you never really get over that." _I hope it's not true,_ she leaves out.

"I mean, it's possible.  Allison and I are friends now. She's dating Kira, I'm -" Scott cuts himself off, and Malia stops on the twelfth step, looking over her shoulder.

"Look," he continues, cheeks flushed with crimson, "the point is, we both moved on, and we're still friends. There's no lingering feelings or awkwardness anymore."

"That was what, after a year?" She retorts once they reach the top of the floor and he stiffens.

"Yeah, okay, you've got me there, but it won't-it won't feel like this forever.  I'm not trying to dismiss your feelings, though, if you feel genuinely hurt, then you  _couuuuuuld_ talk to them."

"No, I can't - no. That'd be next level kinda shitty, a line that I'm not going to cross." She sucks in her breath, biting back a comment about the line  _they_ crossed, holding it back. 

Scott makes a noise of understanding, pushing the doors open. "I figured you'd say as much." 

When the doors are pushed out in front of her and she steps past, the first thing she sees when she looks up is him, Lydia trailing directly behind him. 

Their eyes meet and nostalgia tugs at her. Flashes of memories - halfhearted attempts at studying, the time they'd skinny-dipped last summer and Malia taught Stiles how to front-crawl, when Stiles cracked a joke to her father and somehow made him laugh - rush through her mind involuntarily, and she breaks the contact instinctively, darting to the fountain on her right. 

Scott, bless him,  chats up a storm with Stiles and Lydia, lets Malia fill up her bottle in peace, just to do something, and escapes without so much as a glance behind them.

She hates this, hates how she can't even look at them without the dread and uneasiness in her stomach, but only a few more weeks.

A few more weeks, and out of Beacon Hills she goes.

* * *

Allison decides to have everyone over at her apartment. They deserve a break, she says, after everything with getting Stiles' back, coupled with the impending stress of graduation, and the unspoken fact that in two months, everyone's splitting off to different parts of the country. Everyone says yes, because this is a family of sorts, a pack - one with an alpha, a hunter, a kitsune, a beta, a werecoyote, and a human. As unconventional as they come.

Her dad drops her off, scoping Allison's complex to make sure it's not sketchy and that it's safe. How he's going to deduce its safety by staring at it with furrowed eyebrows is beyond her, but he's naturally protective of her - not that she minds - and after a few minutes of peering around, he tells her to have fun and to be safe.

She says she loves him, relishing in the small, fond smile he gives her, before rushing out and up to Allison's apartment. 

The door to her apartment is open, Malia surprised that it twists easily and it gives in. She'd figure Allison would lock her door at all times, but then again, she's  _Allison_ \- not only does she have an armory of weapons and guns and knives and daggers and Chris Can-Kill-A-Werewolf-In-His-Sleep Argent as a father, but she could kick a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g's ass. 

The apartment's already a mess, and it's only six pm. Bags of chips and popcorn are all over the place, socks have been taken off and discarded, board-games stacked by the coffee-table, and a series of pillows and blankets laid out on the floor. Kira's on the floor, leaning against the end of the couch that Scott and Isaac are on, Isaac laying his head on Scott's lap, who sits upright and strokes his hair almost absentmindedly.

The sight makes Malia feel warmth, and she smiles, shutting the door behind her. She locks it, purely out of habit, and takes her shoes off, leaving them with everyone else's and skidding over towards Kira.

"Allison, I'm  _here._  Wha - where is she?"

"Showering," Isaac says, craning his head to look at Malia. "She thought we were coming over at seven, not six," he deadpans. "Scott and I came, and these two were -" He stops, shuddering.

"Are you serious?" She flashes an amused look toward Kira, nudging her friend, who ducks her head with a shaky laugh.

"It's not like they saw anything. We were in her bedroom. Isaac's overreacting."

"It's not overreacting when you can hear everything you're saying, every noise you're making. Good Lord, you guys are loud-" 

Kira flings a pillow at him, effectively cutting Isaac off. "Leave me and Allison's perfectly healthy sex life alone."

"He's just mad he's not getting any," Malia says factually, shooting a smug look at Isaac.

"Oh, and you are?"

"I'm not the salty one, am I?"

"You know what, when did I turn into the new Stiles? I don't know when this happened, and I'm not comfortable with this."

Malia forces out a laugh, avoiding the look that Scott is definitely giving her, as Kira quips about how he's still their Isaac. A few minutes later, Allison walks out from the hallway, presumably out of the shower, her hair tied up into a long ponytail that sways back and forth with each step.

"Malia! You came! Come, have something to eat, there's lasagna in the kitchen, actually, hold on, I'll bring it over - "

"Allison can cook?"

Scott smirks. "More like she went to Walmart and raided the entire frozen-food section. Allison? Cooking? Please."

The doorbell chimes. 

"Who locked the door?"

Malia winces, immediately shuffling to her feet before someone can rat her out to Allison. "And I'll get that." 

She opens the door, and there  _he_ is, a seven-eleven bag filled with junk food in his hand.  She's suddenly hyper-aware that he's only a few inches away from her, that she's going to be in close proximity to him for the entire night, that she'll have to get used to avoiding eye contact or any contact, period. As if he's a stranger, as if -

okay. Okay. She can do this. 

"We have lasagna," she blurts out.

His eyes widen, and she can see the gears in his mind shifting, trying to think of what to say. She knows him, knows every damned detail-she thought she did, at least - knows from how he's scratching the back of his neck, and how he keeps licking his mouth that he's nervous.

"I have a shit ton of sodium." She's heard him speak numerous times since he'd been back from the Hunt (never to her, obviously), but his voice was never as  _strained_ like this. Hell, even when he broke up with her, his voice wasn't like this. So foreign, so uncomfortable.

That's about all the small talk she can handle, so she spins around and dashes back to her seat safely next to Kira, over-eagerly grabbing the plate of lasagna Allison bends down to give her to distract herself.

"Where's Lydia?" Allison asks teasingly, setting down the rest of the lasagna platter onto the coffee table that Stiles sets his Walmart bag of junk food onto.

Malia refrains from groaning out loud. She's never going to escape this, will she?

"Why would I know?" There's a playful edge to his words, almost like he's daring them to ask what they're really thinking.

Malia's not really surprised when Isaac bluntly says: "Are you and Martin screwing yet or what?"

All eyes fall on him, no one bothering to scold Isaac since they're thinking the exact same thing, and even Malia wills herself to look at him, not surprised when he doesn't look at her, for even a second.

The tips of his ears go pink, and this stupid,  _stupid_ smile tugs at his lips as he squeezes himself in the space between Kira and Allison, who's perched up on a reclining chair. 

That's all the answer they need, it seems.

"Only took you what, nine years?" Scott smirks, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Can we ban any talk of  _Stiles and Lydia_ tonight, please?" 

Malia almost says amen.

* * *

They play Monopoly. They play every card game they know. They eat a lot. They drink a lot of soda. 

Eventually sometime around one, exhaustion seeps in, and they all agree to watch a film. Kira campaigns vehemently for Civil War, and Allison, who's a sucker for her girlfriend, denies any other request. Bowls of buttery popcorn are passed around, blankets are laid out, and they curl up comfortable within the small area of Allison's living room.

Scott and Isaac have the long couch, and share a comforter, Scott's legs on Isaac's lap, Isaac's fingers in Scott's hair. (Malia makes a mental note to harass Scott about this later.)  Stiles occupies the end of the couch, a pillow on his lap. Kira cozies herself on Allison's lap, a blanket strewn over her.

And Malia-well, she arranges a series of pillows and refuses everyone's insistence for her to squeeze herself onto a seat. She doesn't mind the floor, honestly.

She knows Kira's asleep because of how damn loudly that kitsune can snore, and assumes everyone else is asleep, too, because all of the chatter from the first half of the movie completely stops around the time Peter shows up.

She's in that state between being awake and asleep, vaguely aware and unaware of her surroundings. Someone shuffles from behind her. Robert Downey. Jr says something. It's a blur.

She catches her head falling and sits upright, rubbing her eyes. 

"Scott and Isaac fell asleep and Isaac can't keep his hands in one place, I was this close to kicking that fucker. Is it-is it alright if I sit here?"

She freezes and feels very, very awake when she registers that he's speaking and speaking to her.

"What do I care, it's not like I own this part of the floor."

She begrudgingly inches away to give Stiles' some room. 

He sits next to her, crossing his legs. There's a second of silence, where she assumes he'll watch the film and it won't be that awkward.

"Malia, I - "

Something in her snaps immediately. "Don't."

"We should  _talk_  -"

"What's there to talk about, Stiles?" 

" _Please._ "

"If you wanted to talk, you've had three weeks. You have my number, you know where I live, you've had  _so_  many chances. What changed, huh? Huh _?_ "

She should probably lower her voice, but she can't help it. She's bottled everything she's felt since his return and now it's coming out,  rapidly, lava shooting out after an eruption.

Her eyes brim with tears, the angry kind, and her throat feels rough and dry. "Not even a single fucking word. I helped  _save you._ I-I risked my life for you. You didn't even  _look at me,_ Stiles. You saw right past me and went to Lydia. And what? Were you  _always_ in love with her? Never stopped? What was I, huh? Your  _back-up_ plan?" 

It's dark, but the television screen emits enough light for Malia to clearly see his face, the millions of moles and the brownness of his eyes, and to see how his face twists and contorts with guilt, and she thought it would feel good to see him hurt the way it hurt her-

it doesn't.

It makes her feel worse.

He doesn't say anything at first, and she thinks he's not going to. That he's going to pretend to fall asleep or walk away or ignore her.

But he doesn't. Of course not. That's not who Stiles is, and as much as he'd hurt her, she knows that he's a good person. He's a painfully good person, one who helped her adjust to human life and who spent many hours trying to teach her what school couldn't.

Whatever she thinks he's going to say, it's definitely not this: "Lydia and I aren't together."

* * *

"But you kissed."

"Honestly, I think it was the timing of it all that made me feel like it was the right thing to do when it happened. It felt like the thing to do, but we tried it out, and-and we're not a good fit. Lydia likes someone else, and if I'm being real, I don't think I ever loved her. Like,  _really_ loved her. I was so obsessed with this idea of her, this Lydia that I'd conjured in my own head, that when I finally got to know her , the infinitely better version of her, she made for a better friend." 

The tightness in her chest is relieved, finally, because it's the truth. She feels lighter, much lighter, but something still bothers her. "Why all the secrecy, then? The hiding, the running around?"

"We - honestly, we didn't know how to explain it.  And as to why we've been spending so much more time together, let's just say we're helping each other with someone. She has a crush, I have a - well, let's put it at that."

Malia lifts an eyebrow. 

Stiles looks embarrassed, running a hand through his hair. He's fidgeting, like usual, bouncing his leg up and down. It's another sign of nervousness, and god, does he reek of it - it's a painful reminder of how much has changed between them. They used to be...something. Not this. Not quite strangers, but not quite friends, either. The unfamiliar line in between where she knows him and he knows her, where she misses the way he'd curl up into a small ball whenever she'd wrap him in her arms or how whenever they'd watch something together, he'd hook his leg around hers, just for affection's sake.

He was never  _this_ nervous near her. Not when they first kissed, not when she'd swung her fist right at him - not even when she'd lunged at him during that full moon. 

"That - that doesn't matter. The point is, Lydia and I aren't a thing, like everyone thinks we are. And I want you to know that."

His hands are shaking. She reaches forward to stop them gently with her own hands, purely out of habit. The action in itself surprises herself, but she supposes that it hasn't been that long since they broke up, and -

The shocked, soft smile from Stiles suggests he doesn't mind, either, and hey, his hands have stopped moving, stilling in hers. "And you were never a back-up plan. You were so much more than that, Malia."

Malia's never been good with words, and she doubts that any attempt to voice the hurricane of emotions swirling through her mind will come out as coherent, so  she closes the space between them, scooting until her knees "are pressed against his.

"I didn't get to say this before, but - but thank you, you know. For helping bringing me back."

"Oh, come on, you don't have to -"

"I do, though. I do."

"Seriously, shut up.  You know, I've...I've got you.  We're like family." She cringes at her word choice, because she does  _not_ think of him as family.

" _Family?_ " He repeats, a little incredulously and mocking, because, well - it's him. "Didn't know you were into tha -"

"You know what I mean, asshole." And to test the waters a little bit, she lays her head on his shoulder. It's purely innocent, as is when he precariously extends an arm around her shoulder.

It's not much, but it's something.

* * *

Somehow during their slumber, they spoon. Malia knows this because she wakes up to find herself cuddling Stiles', and it feels like no time has passed. She's quick to disentangle herself from him, thankful that everyone else is still sleeping, in the same spots they'd fallen asleep past night.

She hops into the shower since Allison's place is basically a second home.

The shower is the designated place for contemplation, so naturally, she starts to wonder what the hell happened.

She misses him. He  _must_ have missed her, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered explaining himself or clarifying about Lydia.

The rest - the rest will work itself out.

She believes that.

* * *

 They start texting again.

_**Stiles** _

_So, we're ok again, right?_

_we must be_  
_i woke up spooning you  
_ _i forgot how clingy you were in your sleep_

**_Stiles_ **

_Clingy? Please, what about you?_  
_You and your coyote strength, suffocating me in my sleep_  
_It's a wonder you didn't break my ribs :O_

_huh. guess i'll have to try harder next time._

_**Stiles**  _

_Excuse me._  
_And...next time?  
__Not that I would mind_

 

 

 

_Hello?_

 

 

 _Malia?_  
_Fuck, wait, come back_  
_I swear I wasn't trying to make things weird_  
  


_stiles, i took a nap_  
_things are always going to be weird with us_  
_but when exactly have we ever been "normal"?_

* * *

It sort of goes from there.

Malia realizes they never really got to the friend part. They hooked up in Eichen and started dating right afterwards, figuring things out along the way. Malia finds that being friends with Stiles isn't all that different than when they dated - minus all the affection and that different layer that separated friends from lovers. What that layer is, she doesn't quite know.

She's sitting across from Stiles, watching him devour his sundae like an animal. And that's coming from  _Malia,_ who'd insisted on eating every meat raw her first few months as a human.

"What?" Stiles says when Malia only stares at him, the overhead light on their booth flickering. She has her hands holding her face up, watching him with a peculiar yet intrigued look. 

He looks absolutely ridiculous and  Malia can barely stifle her laugh as she reaches over to wipe his nose. "Most of it isn't getting to your mouth, y'know."

"At least I'm eating mine." He gestures to her untouched sundae with an unimpressed look. "What? Are you suddenly too good for a  _Chocolate Stout Waffle Sundae?_ " He reaches forward to slide her sundae closer to her. "Something wrong?"

"No, it's just - we had our first date here. D'you remember?" 

She doesn't know where the nostalgia's coming from. Maybe because graduation is now in two weeks, and everything feels so...sudden. Don't get her wrong, she's ready for a change, for something different, to leave high school all behind, but damn. It's really going to be over soon.

Stiles' mouth quirks into a grin, eyes scanning the diner in its entirety before landing on Malia again. They're twinkling and absolutely  _shining._ It makes Malia's breath catch in her throat. 

"Yeah, I do. You were upset about a failed math test and I took you here to cheer you up. I don't think we realized it was a date until halfway through. You  _refused_ to let me pay -"

"And you refused to let me pay because of your male ego," Malia snorts, feeling her chest loosen at Stiles' amused scoff.

"Male ego, huh?" He repeats. "Lydia's really rubbing off on you."

"Speaking of Lydia," Malia says as subtly as possible, absentmindedly playing with the spoon of her sundae, "what was that thing she was helping you out with?"

Stiles' blush is back in full-swing, and he very clearly avoids looking directly at Malia, staring at the table instead. "It - nothing. Nothing, really."

"Liar."

"Mal, seriously, not a big deal."

She ignores the flutter of her heart at that pet name, that damn name that was  _his_ way of talking to her, that would stumble hazily past his lips whenever she'd do something insanely hot, that was his contact name for her (she vaguely wonders if it still is), and continues. "Come on. Please? Break-up card. Ignoring-me-for-two-weeks card. Letting-me-think-you-were-dating -"

"Okay, okay,  _fine,_ " he interrupts, visibly distressed. His hands cover his face as he slumps forward, sighing heavily. "I - I wanted help with you, alright? To talk to you, to apologize, to get bac - " He stops, shaking his head like he's frustrated at himself." - just you. I wanted you. I didn't know how to get back in your good graces, so I went to Lydia after we'd realized we were better off as friends."

Oh. 

"Stiles." 

She gently pries his hands away from his face, and she feels giddy. It's disgusting and absolutely precious, and she wants to bathe in the feeling, soak it all in. 

He opens his eyes, wincing. "Look, I'm not - I get if you don't want to be friends or anything - I mean, we haven't really  _talked_ about it,  but - you're someone I want in my life. Forever. I knew I'd fucked up severely, and I didn't know how to win your forgiveness."  

She doesn't say anything at first, too awe-struck to form a reply. They're gazing into each other's eyes, and he's nervous. Very nervous.

"Are you not going to say any - "

Malia cups his face, her thumb grazing his cheek. "That's very sweet."

"Oh, um - I'm glad you think so." He's flustered and all that nervousness is gone, someplace else, and he's giving her this dopey, lazy smile that she reciprocates.

"Your sundae's, uh, melting. You should probably get to that."

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

She starts her sundae, which is more of a drink at this point, and they fall into this silence, that's not awkward at all. His foot brushes against hers, and it's comfortable.

* * *

"So, wait - you two broke up?"

"Well, we weren't actually  _dating,_ " Lydia explains vaguely. "You thought we were."

"I mean, I knew they weren't," Malia pipes up, ignoring  the offended noise Allison makes. 

Lydia rolls her eyes at Malia from her spot in front of Kira's mirror, tucking a strand of hair behind her hair before spinning around to look at her friends.

"That's because Stiles told you so he could -" She cuts herself off, a strangled sound escaping her, before she stares at the carpeted floor.

"Wait a darn minute. Are you two back together?" Kira asks, narrowing her eyes and jabbing a finger towards Malia.

"Oh my God, I can't keep up with this anymore." Allison groans, planting herself face-first into Kira's bed. 

Lydia snorts. "Wait 'till I tell you about Cora..."

"My  _cousin_ Cora?" 

"You have a thing for Cora  _Hale?_ I could've sworn you hated her when before she'd left for."

Lydia shrugs, bracing herself against the dresser. "We were hate-fucking," she says nonchalantly. 

"You hate-fucked my  _cousin?_ " 

Allison's eyes enlarge by about two sizes. "You did  _not_ tell me about this, what the shit, Lyds -"

"You two would look adorable together!" Kira gushes.

Lydia gives Allison and Malia a pointed look. " _Thank you,_ Kira. I appreciate that support. Look, it's not that big of a deal. I mean, it kind of is, because she's coming back before graduation, and actually staying in Beacon Hills, and I really want to date her -"

"A nervous Lydia Martin? Are pigs flying now?"

"Wow, thank you for that advice, Malia. When did Stiles Stilinski become more helpful than my three best friends?"

"WAIT! You never answered if you're getting back together with Stiles!" Kira shrieks, swiveling her spinning-chair around to face Malia. All eyes dawn on her, and Malia stiffens.

She sits a little straighter, back against the bed-frame, not knowing what to say. "We're friends. That's all."

Lydia frowns. "He told me he'd - never mind. Ignore that."

"He told you he'd what?" 

"Look, he's my best friend, too. I'm not going to rat him out, but I  _think_ you can guess where I'm going with this. And if we're being honest today, wouldn't you want to get back together with him?" 

"Well...yes, no, I don't - I don't know, okay? It ended so abruptly the first time, and I don't want to hold that over his head or anything, but I don't...know.  Graduation's soon, and he's moving states, and I'm - I'm anywhere but here. The timing is weird."

"Timing's always going to be weird," Allison says. "I mean, I asked Kira out on a date right before she was supposed to move back to New York. Lydia's going to start dating Cora - oh, don't give me that look, you two  _will_  date - right before she heads off to MIT. Waiting for perfect timing is waiting for the impossible. There's no such thing. You should do what you want and go for it while you still can." 

Malia considers this, drawing a deep breath. Allison's one hundred percent right. 

She doesn't really know what her and Stiles are doing, because they've been hanging out all the time. After school study sessions, talking non-stop at lunch, revisiting, it seems, all of the places they went out on dates (which is not that many considering how Beacon Hills has nothing remotely fun to do, at all - all you can do here is have near-death experiences and go to school), and text all the time. It feels exactly like old times, back when they were dating, except she's not sneaking into his room at night and he's not kissing the sweet spot on her neck and she's not holding him.

While she likes this tentative stage they're in, she wants it all. She wants  _him._

"Nice speech, babe." Kira blows Allison a kiss, which she dramatically accepts by bringing her hands to her heart, winking at her girlfriend. 

"When you two do get back together, don't be like this."

"Piss off, we're adorable, Lydia," Allison huffs.

* * *

 There's a highlighter in her mouth and she's reading about the human heart  - ironic, she's aware - and Stiles won't stop humming. There's no music playing and all she can focus on is his off-key humming, which is only mildly irritating, but irritating nonetheless, and she can't focus.

She doesn't bother telling him to shut up; she wordlessly reaches out, and closes his lips together with two fingers.

"Mal - ex _cuse_ me - " 

"Will you stop trying to hum what I  _think_ is a Taylor Swift song?" 

He squeaks and tries speaking, the words a gibberish mess, so she releases her hold.

"You listened to the Spotify playlist I sent you!?  _Top two-thousand and ten hits that_  -"

"-  _Will fill the teenage angst part that you missed out on?_   Yeah, of course I did."

She smiles at his sheer excitement, finding it insanely adorable, and he smiles at her, and she thinks - she thinks this is a moment. 

It must be, because Stiles' cheeks flush, his heart hammers, and a finger subconsciously reaches up to touch his lips. He looks away, closing and opening his textbook a few times before looking at her again.

"You - you know, you're going to crush your Bio exam." He lays down next to her, holding his face up with his hands. "Partly because of your  _awesome_ tutor -"

"Telling terrible jokes about mitosis counts as a tutor?" Malia smirks, canting her head to the side as Stiles' scoffs, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

"And I mean, partly because you're a genius or whatever." He's so genuine, that Malia doesn't bother waving him off about how she's absolutely not a genius, what with her barely passing Calculus grade. She rolls her eyes and says nothing, which doesn't go unnoticed.

"What? You  _are_ a genius -" 

"Because geniuses get by on sixties in math, yeah right -" 

He touches her arm and she stills. "C'mon, Mal, you know that there are more than one way to measure a genius. Just because you're terrible at math, doesn't mean you're not smart. 'Cause you are. Very, very smart."

"Coming from Einstein himself? Wow. I feel honored." 

"What? Oh please, I'm not -"

"Weren't you accepted  into  _all_ of the universities you applied to?"

This shuts him up successfully, until: "Wait. How did you know that?"

Ah, shit. They'd broken up around March, before any admissions were sent out, before Malia had decided on taking a gap year, and before Stiles' received any of his acceptance letters. 

Malia bites on her lip as Stiles continues to stare her down with his interrogative, scrutinizing gaze, his face inching closer to silently bug her.

"Okay,  _fine, fine._ I asked Kira to keep tabs on you after we broke up, okay? You barely post on social media, and besides, it's not like I care where you have your frozen yogurt. I...wanted to know the small stuff. The big stuff. Even if we weren't together."

"Malia..."

She continues rambling. "Because, yeah, you dumped me and it fucking sucked when it happened, but I still - I still cared. You were my first boyfriend, Stiles, you meant so much to me that I couldn't not  _care_ anymore about you, hell, I never stopped -"

"Say that again."

It suddenly occurs to Malia how close they are. She can feel his breath on her skin, if she leaned forward an inch...She thinks about a few days ago, in Kira's room, and Allison's words return to her as clear as day.  _You should do what you want and go for it while you still can._

"Mal, Mal, just - say that again. Please." He takes her face into his hands, one hand on either cheek, and she leans into it, pressing her forehead against his.

"I never stopped caring about you."

Malia's not sure who kisses who; their lips meet somewhere in the middle, and it's absolutely electric. She breathes him in, all five-nine of him, and  _fuck,_ she missed kissing him. She follows her instincts and grabs him by the collar until he's pressed up against her, relishing in his surprised groan. 

"You think you're so  _smug,_ huh -" 

She rolls over, on top of him, pinning his hands to his bed. "Yup."

He laughs breathlessly, dimples popping out, and tilts his face forward to kiss her jaw. "I missed you."

She lowers herself, settling comfortably on his side, nuzzling his neck as he shifts an arm around her. "I missed you too." 

"What happened?" She sighs into his chest, feeling his body tense up. "We were together one day, then fallen apart the next."

"Malia...we were falling apart for a while there. I don't - I don't know. Everything with the Dread Doctors and - and Donovan and your demonic  mother happened so quickly and we were too caught up, too exhausted to be there for each other. But, honestly, that won't happen again. I swear. I mean - I mean, if we do get back together, which, you know,  _no pressure at all,_ but I'm one hundred percent with you if - if that's what you  _want,_ I sure as hell want it, but you -"

He's rambling, and the only way to effectively get him to  _stop_ is by cutting him off with a swift, chaste kiss to his lips. "Do you even have to ask if I want it?"

"Considering our track record with communication," he says half-teasing, brushing their noses together. "I don't want to fuck it up."

"We won't," she insists. "And I think at this point, we'll just find our way back to each other. Two break-ups and we're right back where we started."

"It better  _stay_ at two."

* * *

It's the day before graduation and Malia can't sleep. She's not sure if she's nervous or it's the anticipation of it all, the big day finally here, the day no one thought would actually come finally being here. She keeps tossing and turning until it's two in the morning. For some stupid reason, they still have school tomorrow, despite exams having finished. They're all going, but will most likely end up skipping and hanging out by the public park near their school and grab some lunch, spend the day together.

Regardless, Malia still has to be up fairly early, and exhaustion refuses to find her. 

It's been ages since she's done this, and she prays that Stiles' hasn't started locking his window. His dad's a light sleeper, and she has some idea how it'll look, her breaking into his son's room in the middle of the night.

Thankfully, Stiles hasn't, and she finds no difficulties breaking into his room. 

"Dad, five more minutes...it's still  _dark_ out..."

"I'm not your Dad, but I could be your daddy _._ "

"Oh my God," Stiles splutters, sounding much more awake. His eyes shoot open, mouth cracking into a half-smile, sitting upright as Malia wanders through the dark towards his bed. "Where did you learn that?"

Malia shrugs, yawning as she stops at the foot of his bed. "I heard Isaac whisper something about being a daddy to Scott. I assumed it's sexual, and honestly, I've given up trying to understand today's humor. Can I come in?"

"Fuck yes, come 'ere."

She slides underneath the covers, Stiles' turning around so Malia can easily spoon him. Her head shifts into the crook of his neck, and this feels...right.

Like coming home.

"I thought your nightmares stopped last summer." She can hear the frown in his voice.

"They did. I just couldn't fall asleep.  Big day tomorrow, and all."

"Graduation, yeah." 

A comfortable silence follows suit, lasting a minute, before Stiles turns around, Malia's arm never leaving his torso. "We haven't really talked about graduation or, ya know, what happens afterwards with us."

"You first, then."

Butterflies swarm her rib cage and she feels nervous, anxious. It's only now occurring to her that in two months, he goes wherever he desires, and for a full, school year, he'll be miles and miles away from here. When she'd still thought he and Lydia were dating, that would've been a dream come true.

But now...

"New York with Scott is still a go," he says. That had always been him and Scott's plan, since they were little kids. Even before the supernatural, they wanted to get away from this hell-hole, and go to college together.  

"That," her breath hitches, "is good. It's what you've always wanted and I'm glad."

"What about you, Mal? I know you weren't sure about school after graduation."

"I decided on taking a gap year. Reapply for schools again next year. My grades are better this semester anyway, and mostly, I need the break. My life's been fucked since I was eight, and ever since I shifted, it's been one thing after the next. I was thrown into this life, a life that is  _mine,_ that I love, but - but I need to stop and breathe. You know?"

He strokes her shoulder, and she melts in his embrace. "Yeah, I get it. What're you gonna do?"

"Travel.  See as many places as I can without completely emptying up my bank account, maybe work for a little bit." 

She hasn't really planned the logistics, but she knows how she wants to spend September and October, and the rest, she'll figure out on the way. She'd decided to stick around this summer instead of bolting, now that all the awkwardness and tension between her and Lydia and Stiles has eased over. It was a ridiculous plan in the first place, to leave as soon as summer started all because they were "dating", she realizes now. 

She's going to soak up every damn minute she has with her friends before their time becomes limited and scheduled.

"Oh. I'll - I'll miss you." He sounds so  _sad,_ reeking of it too, and Malia grabs his hand. She refuses for either of them to be wallowing in sadness and fear about something that's months away. They've gone through hell and back, and they're still alive and now, they're together again.

What's a couple hundred miles compared to nearly dying?

"No, you won't."

Stiles scoffs like he's offended, raising a pointed finger. "Ex _cuse_ me, you don't know -"

"Because we'll call and text and Skype so often you won't even notice I'm not in New York with you."

"That," he says with a sharp intake of breath, "was very smooth. I can be smooth, too. Smoother than a baby's butt."

Malia laughs, unable to help herself. "Wow, I'm  _so_ attracted to you," she mocks, "you really know how to get into a girl's pants."

"Well, I got into yours, didn't I?"

He wags his eyebrows, and she narrows her eyes at him.

"You  _were_ the first guy that I'd really talked to, so whose to say I wouldn't have jumped into anyone else's arms had they been the first guy that caught my eye?"

"AHA!" Stiles blurts out far too loudly, Malia hissing at him to  _shut up or your dad will come in_  in a low voice."You admit that I caught your eye," he goes on in a quieter voice, practically beaming at the insinuation. 

She doesn't try to contain her huge grin, embracing him into a kiss. She feels this wave of calmness, and feels grateful that she's here, right now, with him, in this tiny-ass, creaking bed with his knee pressed against her thigh and his sweating hand against hers.

"You got me there," she says softly.

He hums, bringing his lips to the nape of her neck to kiss her appreciatively. "We're going to have some  _wild sex_ after graduation. Mind-numbing, loud, messy sex. You're going to give me a  _shit_ ton of hickies -"

"Why not start now?" 

In one swift move, Malia straddles Stiles' lap and tilts his chin up.

"As much as it physically pains me to say no to that, we need sleep. Tomorrow's our  _high school graduation._ But another kiss wouldn't hurt."

His hands move to her back and she bends down to meet his mouth, and they stay like that, comfortably together, until Malia opens her eyes just to check the time, and holy shit, it's three in the morning.

She (reluctantly) hops off of him and they return to their prior position, Malia happily holding Stiles, and Stiles happily curling up into a small ball. 

"Hey Stiles?"

She's not sure how much time has passed, in that weird state in between sleep and being awake. Sunlight peaks through Stiles' open window, and she swears, she hears the faint chirping of birds. 

"Mal?" He says groggily.

"I love you."

"You - fuck you, I wanted to say that first! Couldn't have let me gotten to it, huh?"

"Nope. You snooze, you lose, Stilinski."

He turns around, and they're face-to-face, noses and foreheads pressed together. "Tate, how can I lose if I'm dating someone as amazing as you?"

Her heart somersaults and flips, backwards and forwards. He's so awfully  _cheesy_ that it makes her smile all wide. "That was pretty fucking smooth. Smoother than a baby's butt, even."

"It's fucking ridiculous how much I love you, Malia."

Malia bites back a smile, peering past Stiles to glance at the clock.  _Seven-ten._ "Do you have an extra toothbrush?"

"I actually never got around to throwing yours out," he admits, scratching his neck. "Don't give me that look! I dunno, I guess throwing it out would really make it official that we were over, and I didn't want to accept that."

"Aw, you nerd, you really love me."

"No shit, I did just  _tell you_ -"

She keeps poking him - jabbing gently at his chest, his arm, his shoulder. "You  _love_ me, you love-love me, Stiles loves Malia, Stiles loves Maliaaaaaaa -"

"Yeah. He really does."

She ignores how the look in his eyes swells her heart, forcing herself to stand up, because if she doesn't soon, she won't  _ever_ leave this damn bed and this damn boy. "So I can safely assume you kept my clothes, too?"

"Bottom right cabinet in the washroom."

"I'll be back in five minutes," she promises, quickly kissing his forehead before descending to his washroom.

She thinks back to the beginning of the month, four long weeks ago, how different everything was, and yes - she's aware, that things will continue to change. Lydia once told her change was life's only constant, and Malia knows how true that is.

The next year is full of possibilities, infinitely many, who knows what'll happen. But if Malia's learned anything, dwelling on the inevitable is pointless. Right now, she's alive. Her father is. Her friends are. She has a pretty damn good group of friends and a boyfriend she loves who loves her, and she's going to be a high school graduate, goddammit.

No, there's no feeling of impending doom or fear about what's in store. She knows it'll be terrible, knows that high school was basically preparing them all for the messy, complicated world, but that's for people who haven't faced murderous mothers or torturous doctors or any supernatural being, to begin with.

 _She_ has.

And she's still standing, isn't she? 

So no, the future doesn't scare her, partly because at this point, nothing scares her anymore, and partly because - 

well, she has kick-ass friends and a beautiful boy who kept her toothbrush and clothes long after they'd broken up, she thinks, feeling warm and calm and confident and every good feeling possible. 

She's going to be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> can y'all believe that Stiles and Malia never canonically said "I love you" to each other?
> 
> but i mean, fuck canon anyways lol, fiction is open to interpretation, and u can write ur own ending! that's basically what i did 
> 
> my tumblr is @trulyalpha, feel free to bug me there! thank you so much for reading. :)


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